Pooh strayed from the Hundred Acre Wood, and found out to his uttermost chagrin that Sunny Hunny was but a nickname given to this Victorian seaside resort.I knew there wasn't a lot of honey to be found within a hundred acres in the first place!
What we went to Hunstanton to see - those layered sandstone cliffs in the distance.
The carcass of an iron vessel, clad in the brown and green of neglect and blending almost seamlessly into the beachscape.We were just rather disappointed it wasn't a few hundred years older.
Makeshift lagoons beached by the retreating tide.
The wind was predictably quite strong where we were, and this made for a very bizarre sight. I cannot really decide here whether it was that these blokes were successful kiteflyers, or rather that the kites were unsuccessful in taking their masters out for a sortie.
The local lighthouse, now fallen into disuse, viewed through what's now left of St Edmund's Chapel, also no longer serviceable in the least bit.
It's been a long cold lonely winter, and it seems like years since it's been clear. But here comes the sun.
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